


Dirty pony, I can't wait to hose you down

by doctorziegler



Series: Overwatch Kink Week 2017 [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: BDSM Scene, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Canon-Typical Violence, Choking, Consensual Kink, Consensual Violence, Derogatory Language, Electrocution, Established Relationship, Face Slapping, Facials, Humiliation, M/M, Monster Boyfriend, Seizures, Subspace, Verbal Humiliation, Watersports, owkinkweek, pissing, pissplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-21 04:48:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9532142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorziegler/pseuds/doctorziegler
Summary: That feel when you discreetly meet up with your ex once a week to beat each other senseless in really,reallyawful predetermined BDSM scenes. Alternately titled, "Jack Morrison Is A Rough AF Dom (But Gabriel Reyes Loves It)".(Written for Day 3 ofOverwatch Kink Week:Glory Hole|||Watersports)





	

**Author's Note:**

> uhh heed the warnings?? warning for Very mean jack. 
> 
> also: this is an **agreed-upon / consented-to bdsm scene** for those wondering why there's no dub-con warning. if that ruins it for u, SRRY, but i love my gross old d/s men and their gross fucked up d/s relationship best when it's portrayed this way. i'm a softie, so sue me.
> 
> ofc gabriel is trans in this but it doesn't?? really get brought up. if you've read my stuff b4 you know gabe's always trans but. anyway. js.
> 
> enjoy!!
> 
> [ [twitter](https://twitter.com/heatvisions) / [nsfw twitter](https://twitter.com/DOOOMZO) ]

The live wire danced back and forth the Reaper’s menacing form, crackling electricity in the air causing even the littlest hairs on the back of Soldier: 76’s neck to stand at attention. If this crackpot idea was actually going to work in the vigilante’s favor, he needed to do it, _now_ — before Reaper turned himself to smoke again and tipped the odds further into his favor.

“What’s the matter, Morrison?” The Reaper purred through mocking laughter, heavy footfalls closing the distance between he and 76 with aching slowness. “Cat got your tongue? You _never_ give up this easy, not even when you’re in the…, ah, the ‘mood’ for me.”

Jack hated that Reaper’s— that _Gabriel’s_ voice still affected him the way it did, even in moments like this, when all the Talon agent was fixated on was beating Soldier within an inch of his life. If the live wire’s static hadn’t already been eliciting the physical response in 76’s nerves that it currently was, Reaper’s sultrily-spoken _insults_ would have done the same to the man, Jack had absolutely no doubt. Not even death itself, apparently, could sever the spark between them, and it infuriated Jack to no end that Gabriel’s well-honed sex appeal could _still_ get under his skin, even after all of the abuse and hurt they’d put each other through since— and even before, if Jack allowed himself the shameful honesty— Zurich.

The whole leather-clad ‘villain’ thing just _worked_ for Gabriel, as loath as Jack was to admit it, especially under current circumstances.

Especially considering that he was mere seconds away from _killing_ the man, for what would be— what? The _tenth_ time, in not so many days?

“Maybe I just don’t feel much like fighting tonight, ‘Reaper’,” 76 replied, strafing cautiously to the right as Reaper continued to approach him, the two soldiers circling each other like a pair of bloodthirsty hounds, desperate to catch even the slightest display of weakness in the other. “Maybe I’m tired of patching up my uniform, after all those claw-marks I’ve had to sew over.”

At that amusing confession, the Reaper laughed; thanks to the sparking wire causing interference, Gabriel’s laugh sounded warped to Jack’s ears, the noise positively inhuman. The insistent ringing between his blown-out eardrums muffled the humor in Reyes’ tone enough that he might have sworn the other man was _sobbing_ , if he hadn’t known better than to think something so foolish.

Gabriel hadn’t ever been the crying sort, after all, and Jack sincerely doubted that death— combined with the high probability Talon brainwashing, of course— had done much to change that.

“If only you had a good little _housewife_ to do all of your sewing for you,” Reaper’s voice held enough venom now that it nearly made Soldier’s skin crawl, the wedding band he hid between the dog tags looped around his neck practically burning a brand—property of ‘Gabriel Reyes’, now and forever, ‘til death do us part— into his flesh. “Too bad you’d make a terrible husband, huh?”

76’s mutilated jaw cracked behind his mask, teeth grinding together in disdain as Reaper— Reyes —hit him right where it hurt the very most. “If I didn’t know any better, wraith, I’d think you were _flirting_ with me,” without allowing any of the rage he felt thanks to Gabriel’s below-the-belt blow to color his words, Jack finally stopped moving, standing mannequin-still with the live wire now jumping and twitching mere inches from the back of his head. “Fantasizing about doing household chores for me, is that it? Doing the dishes, my laundry; home cooked meal waiting for me on the dinner table when I get home from work, huh? That sort of thing? Aw, Gabe; I didn’t know you still c—“

“ _DON’T YOU **DARE** CALL ME THAT!_ ”

As 76 had anticipated, Reaper charged towards him in a blood-frenzy, throwing caution to the wind and abandoning the tactical genius that had belonged to Gabriel Reyes— not to _Reaper_ , who, Jack knew, was only a maddened husk of the extraordinary man he’d once been.

Just as much as Soldier: 76 was a cheap imitation, a mere shroud of Jack Morrison, legendary Strike-Commander of Overwatch, one of the men who’d helped to save the world, with his beloved spouse, his comrade-in-arms Gabriel Reyes, ever-faithfully by his side.

May their souls rest in peace, wherever the hell heroes went when they died.

‘Valhalla’ _was_ a nice concept, though, in Ziegler’s defense.

With impeccable timing, Jack dodged the Reaper’s oncoming attack, ducking out of the way of one of the black-clad agent’s hands, avoiding yet another new set of scars that led back to Reaper’s monstrous claws.

The momentum meant that Reaper nearly came face-to-face with the live wire, but no way was he stupid enough to fall for such an obvious trap— or so he thought, stopping on a dime and turning in Soldier’s direction, drawing a shotgun out of thin air and twisting smoke and aiming at Jack’s head. “Gabriel Reyes is _dead_ ,” the Reaper spat, wholly focused on Soldier: 76 and blocking out the very real danger all around him. “And _you_ killed him—“

“Yeah,” Jack agreed, an icy sort of calm coming over him as he drew his sidearm, a USSOCOM MK 23 equipped with a suppressor that he’d only ever relied on during close-quarters situations like this one. One shot, aimed perfectly, was all that it took to dislodge one of the rusted pipes directly to Reaper’s left; one well-aimed bullet was all it took to cause a wild spray of water to drench the Talon agent from head to toe as, slowly, 76’s underhanded strategy dawned on the now-panicking Reaper. Jack continued to speak, his voice as emotionless and unfeeling as the mask he’d donned made him appear to his friends and enemies alike: “ _I_ killed him.”

The live wire wasted no time fulfilling its decided function, a spark coming into contact with the water’s spray before igniting Reaper in a flash of blinding-white light, the man’s skeleton bared to Jack’s eyes over and over again even as the overwhelming visual feedback became too much for his visor to process. Jack had to turn away from the onslaught of stimuli for a moment, though Reaper’s stuttering screams and the smell of burning flesh— and piss, Jack noticed, albeit dimly— still reached his ears and nose, respectively.

When he did turn back towards the man, once the water from the pipe having finally receded, Reaper had long since collapsed to the floor, twitching and gasping as he began to— wait, was that— was he _seizing_?

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Jack hardly recognized his own voice in the uncomfortable silence of the room, the live wire coiling away from the Reaper’s body like a snake as Jack cautiously approached the ought-to-be-dead man. This hadn’t ever happened before— any time he and Reaper had fought, he’d _died_ , properly, whenever 76 finally managed to get the upper hand. It was part of the unpleasant tango they’d entered into; for every time Reaper dragged his claws down Soldier’s back in the heat of the moment, Soldier had murdered him in cold blood, and that morbid end seemed to be just what Reaper wanted from the vigilante he’d once— and occasionally still _did_ — called ‘lover’.

Now, instead of something so simple as death, he seemed… relatively fine, at least considering that he’d just been viciously electrocuted, his skeleton still flashing as his immortal body fought to expel any remaining electricity.

With a pathetic gasp, Reaper rolled to his side, body twisting and flailing uselessly as he seized and sparked, the distinct stench of piss-stained leather reaching 76’s nostrils and nearly making him gag. “You’re _seriously_ having a seizure. Really.”

Gabriel hadn’t had a history of epilepsy, and Jack knew the man’s medical background just as well as he knew his own; Jack could only deduce that this had something to do with the unnatural biology of the man’s body as it currently was, though he hadn’t ever expected to see a display so… helpless from something Talon considered one of their most threatening weapons.

Laying there like that, wetting himself and twitching, bucking, gasping and grunting, as helpless as a child, Reaper looked positively _pitiful_ , and Jack actually startled himself when he let out a cruel bark of laughter in Reaper’s general direction.

“You look fucking ridiculous,” he confessed, using the heel of his boot to turn the Reaper onto his back— careful there weren’t any remaining sparks of electricity he may get struck by. “I thought listening to you _drown_ was memorable, but this? _Shit_ , Gabriel,” Jack crouched by Reaper’s—Reyes’ side, sidearm slid back into place on his thigh and pulse rifle strapped to his back, “you even _pissed_ yourself. Christ. What am I gonna do with you, huh? You’re a fucking joke; I can’t believe you actually fell for a bait-and-switch trick, after all these years of priding yourself as a 'genius tactician'.”

Gabriel’s blood-red eyes flew open behind his bone-mask, a look of both humiliation and unfettered fury in them that did more than enough to send heat pooling between Jack’s legs.

The impromptu seizure was finally coming to an end as Jack yanked Reaper’s mask off, pushing the man’s hood back as the final waves of spasms worked their way through him, spit and blood— from where he’d attempted to chew his tongue clean off, Jack imagined— drooling shamelessly out of Gabriel’s mouth as he choked and coughed, breathing labored and vision once again unfocused.

“ _J_ —J _aah_ —Jac _kk_ —“

Without taking the time to think about what, exactly, he was doing to the helpless man before him, Jack struck Gabriel, hard, slapping the man across the face and effectively shutting down his stammering, at least for the moment. This was— this was all sorts of fucked up, Jack knew, his pulse racing and dick hardening, digging uncomfortably into his fly thanks to the squatting position he was currently in. “Why do _you_ get to say that, huh? Why do you get to call me by that name, and _I_ get my head bitten off any time I even so much as _try_ to use yours?”

Gloved fingers grasped the Reaper’s—no, not Reaper; this was _Gabriel_ , now, wasn’t it, with his grey-streaked beard covered in spit and pupils amid unnatural irises and black sclera blown wide— jaw, Jack holding the now only lightly-convulsing man still as he rearranged himself to squat atop Gabriel’s chest, instead. Jack forced his knees into Gabriel’s shoulders, crudely pinning him to floor as if he still posed a threat, despite this momentary display of uselessness.

“ _Gabriel_ ,” Jack growled, the hand clenching Gabriel’s chin sliding downward to encircle the meat of his throat. “Except— no; you know, maybe I shouldn’t. Shouldn’t call you that anymore.” With his unoccupied hand, Jack began to unzip himself, fatigues shoved down only enough as was necessary to pull his half-hard cock from the confines of his underwear as he continued to speak, “Gabriel— _my_ Reyes, see, he wouldn’t _ever_ find himself in this kinda position; he’s _nothing_ like you, ‘Reaper’, who’s just some little doped-up Talon _bitch_ who pisses his pants at the first twinge of pain.”

As if it weren’t a physiological reaction Gabriel’d had no control over— as if this was at all fair to the man laying beneath him, no matter how much fucked-up shit Jack and Gabriel did to each other on a near-daily basis, these days. This felt… different, somehow; Jack’s heart felt about ready to beat out his chest, and if Gabriel _could_ speak in his current state of disrepair, he certainly wasn’t biting back— nor was he wordlessly rising to Soldier’s taunts, either.

Instead of the overdramatic reactions Jack had come to expect from Reaper during their midnight ‘trysts’, he was simply… breathing, hard, little tremors still reverberating through his stiff body, eyes glassy and lips parted, a kind of dazed expression on the man’s oft-inhuman visage that resembled Reyes much more closely than Jack had since since— well.

Since _Zurich_ , if he was, once again, totally honest with himself.

He looked drunk, stoned, fucked-out _and_ fuckable, even with the drool and blood caked onto his lips. Jack found himself wanting to kiss it away, momentarily, but—

“You know what _I_ think a stupid slut like you deserves, Reaper?” Jack hardly recognized the cruel tone of his own voice, guilt welling up in his gut with every insult he threw in Gabriel's face. With gloved fingers encircling the tip of his cock, using his other hand to pry the man's jaws open, a shiver like lightning shooting down Jack's spine as Gabriel's unnaturally-long tongue lolled out of his mouth, as if by some twisted force of habit that came from having Jack's dick so close to his face. "I think you deserve a taste of your own— goddamn— _medicine_."

Gabriel glanced up at Jack, lucidly, for a fleeting moment, a silent exchange of sick consent that Jack loathed himself for still needing so desperately, as if 'Reaper' hadn't beaten Jack black and blue a dozen times; as if their relationship hadn't been built on passion and violence in the first place. As if they both didn't get off on the constant game of cat-and-mouse they played with one another, passing the roles back and forth as if dominance and submission were both something they enjoyed in equal measure— and, hell, as far as Jack was concerned, they  _did_. 

Maybe this was always where they'd end up, the two of them: fucked-up old men playing war in a dingy warehouse in the middle of the night, surrounded by crackling electricity and the soothing sounds of rainfall against the roof; the bitter-sweet stench of blood and piss and sex stinging their noses. Maybe this was inevitable; maybe nothing had changed between them, after all— apart from the new monikers they'd donned.

Maybe this was just what war  _did_ to people. 

What did it matter, when you'd already been buried— when you'd seen your own _grave_ , with your own two eyes?

"Jack—" Gabriel growled, the slurred, half-muffled by Jack's fingers sound dragging Jack back to the present, the tip of his cock sliding along the man's teeth as he threatened, teased to delve in deeper. " _Give_ — give it—"

"Oh, fuck," Jack's hips sunk lower without warning, delicious, guilty warmth spreading through him as he ground down against Reaper's chest, locking eyes with his beloved adversary once more before finally allowing himself to relax, to give in to the urge he'd been fighting for the past few minutes. "You want it, Gabe? Sorry— ' _Reaper_ '? Huh? Just like this— right down your damn throat? _Whore_ ; you're actually _asking_ me for it, Christ—"

If Gabriel intended to encourage Jack further, he didn't get the chance before a steady stream of piss hit the roof of his mouth, the back of his throat, coating his black tongue and those too-sharp teeth. Unprepared for the intensity of it, Gabriel choked, struggling to swallow as Jack forced his cock-head between Gabriel's lips, giving the man little choice but to drink it down, lest he asphyxiate himself on Jack's dick. 

Not that that would be something new for either of them, but— 

Gabriel gasped for air as Jack pulled back, spraying piss on the man's face, forcing Gabriel to squeeze his eyes shut and simply accept this— this gift, this punishment, this positively exhilarating humiliation that had Gabriel's entire groin aching, the leather between his thighs rapidly becoming just as soaked as his face (from both his own piss _and_ slick), hips undulating beneath Jack's weight as the man pinned him down and used him as he saw fit. If this moment could last a lifetime, Gabriel thought, he'd have been content— too-long tongue lazily encircling Jack's dick, using its newfound prehensile qualities to drag Jack back into his clutches, letting out a throaty purr as his mouth filled with Jack's final drops of piss, that Gabriel sloppily allowed to cascade down his chin.

He'd need to scrap this entire suit, if he didn't want to reek of Jack's piss every single time he wore it— not that that was _entirely_ bad, in theory, but someone would undoubtedly notice, and having to explain _that_ to Talon higher-ups wouldn't be any fun— for anyone involved.

Jack was a mess, cock already swelling up with blood as his erection returned in full-force, more turned-on by the filthy display Gabriel had put on while swallowing his piss than anything he'd seen the man do in weeks; _Gabriel_ was a wreck, piss-coated and deep in subspace, tiny tremors still inducing jolts and jumps as his body fought against the urge to seize all over again. 

"Of course you liked that," Jack murmured, thumbing at the underside of his dick as he began to jerk it, quickly, directly in front of Gabriel's face. "Slut."

Gabriel nodded weakly, fingers twitching as he tried— and failed— to move his entrapped arms out from under Jack's unforgiving restraint. "Uh huh," he managed to say, head lolling momentarily to the side as he choked up a mouthful of piss he'd yet to successfully swallow, his throat too exhausted to do otherwise. "Still— still thirsty, though," with a lazy, crooked grin, Gabriel made eye contact with his lover, gaze trailing down to the bead of pre-come already threatening to drip out of Jack's urethra.

Jack laughed, breathless, heart pounding as he wrapped his free hand around Gabriel's neck, holding the man in place as he continued working his cock mere centimeters from Gabriel's mouth. "You're insatiable," he rasped, shamelessly moaning despite himself, while Gabriel used his tongue to toy with Jack's loose foreskin. " _And_ ridiculous."

"'Ridiculous'? I thought 'stupid' was the word of the day."

"Don't get smart with me, Reyes—"

"Oh, I'm _smart_ , now? Make up your damn senile mind, 'Morrison'."

"I like you _so_ much better when you're choking on something, you know."

Luckily for Jack, however, _that_ was something that could be easily arranged.

[END]


End file.
